


The Pursuit Of Happiness

by LightningInABottle



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander Hamilton as Siegfried, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe- Swan Lake, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drama & Romance, Evil Lafayette, Jamilton - Freeform, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, Thomas Jefferson as Odette, birthday gift, swan lake AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LightningInABottle/pseuds/LightningInABottle
Summary: Trapped by his royal responsibilities and under pressure to marry, Crown-Prince Alexander Hamilton has never gotten to pursue his own happiness.Until he witnesses a swan transform before his very eyes into a beautiful man cursed to remain at the lake where he spends his days trapped inside a cage of feathers.Thomas Jefferson could never pursue his happiness either, not since he fell under a wicked enchantment.Love has a way of changing things





	The Pursuit Of Happiness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swanofthelake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swanofthelake/gifts).



> This is dedicated to the best writer and sweetest friend, Lana Swan (@swanofthelake)  
> I love you so much, and not a day goes by that I don't thank you for being in my life.   
> Happy birthday, I hope you like it!

The scarlet sunset seemed to light the palace on fire, starting with the gold-embroidered flags flying from the stone towers, and then slowly burning its way down to the ornate windows. When the light hit the glass, it refracted, shattering into luminous ruby shards on the ballroom floor, which was bathed in color from the rapidly approaching dusk, and filled with people from all over the kingdom coming together to celebrate the crown prince’s coming-of-age. As the evening wore on, the dancing couples spun faster, the drinks seemed to disappear quicker, and the revelers in the castle became even more loud and boisterous. The violinists were sawing at their bowstrings with extreme intensity, little droplets of sweat forming on their foreheads as they tried to keep up with the ever-increasing tempo of the festivities. 

Alexander Hamilton stared intently at one of them, a young man with a shock of straw-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail, whose lips were pursed in concentration, pressed together so tightly they were turning white. He focused in on the boy, who looked like he could still be an apprentice, about Hamilton’s age, learning about simple violin techniques and the proper way to address aristocrats. Of course, he was no plain musician if the King had hired him to play at arguably the most important event in the past decade, which gave Alexander probable cause to believe he was born into wealth. There was no way to truly know, but it was a well enough distraction from the boredom taking over his mind. 

The nervousness was clear in the young man’s blue eyes, and when they met Alexander’s own, they widened with comedic shock, quickly darting away as his cheeks colored. The prince sighed quietly when it became apparent that no further eye-contact would be made, and continued scanning the ballroom, his eyes skipping past the frills, jewels, and stilted formalities that were present even in the midst of drunken festivities. Somewhere in the back of his head, a little voice whispered that this was all in his name and that he should be grateful. But how could he be when the expectation behind his birthday was looming heavily above him? It was as his father had told him only days ago; it would soon be time to choose a bride. And in that moment, staring at the forced laughter and gold-lie promises of the court, Alexander decided he would sooner marry a swan than tie himself down to a woman he did not care for in the slightest. 

_ At least the bird would make better company... _

Hamilton was busy lazily drifting around the perimeter of the ballroom, surveying the crowd of people who seemed to either be mingling with a glass of alcohol in their hands or whirling across the floor, which was turning shades of maroon and violet, from the dwindling sunlight, almost like a fresh bruise. He stole another glance at the blond musician, who was scrupulously concentrating on playing slow and  _ dolce _ in order to accommodate the languorous waltz that the guests had fallen into. He looked away, once he realized that the youth was probably more preoccupied with his music, or with the fact that the crown prince had glanced in his general direction. 

Hamilton suddenly felt isolated, cut off from the rest of the universe; like everyone else was thinking on the same wavelength, centering their lives around impressing the right people or marrying into the right family. Maybe it was the fact that Alexander was already born into the perfect role, but he was more concerned with actually living a life that meant something to him, being more than a portrait and a nametag set to adorn the walls of the castle. But unfortunately, his fate was already decided for him; from some pretty face set to be his bride, to the kingdom he would inherit, but never rule, always trapped by the whims of the King’s power-hungry advisors. So Alexander remained here, on the outskirts of the revelry, looking in from the outside. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t like being the center of attention- he did, but the stifling fakeness of the environment that he had to subject himself to for the sake of politeness was just too much sometimes. And of course, there was the matter of a wife, which, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, would come up eventually. 

“Alexander!” Hamilton was snapped out of his despondent reverie by a grinning mass of freckles and curls stuffed under a jester’s cap running towards him in a way that made his eyes sparkle with amusement. No matter what mood he was in, John Laurens always found a way to cheer him up. Even if that way was cutting through a confused cluster of duchesses chatting about gold versus silver jewelry, shouting at the top of his lungs. _ “Alexander, Alexander!” _

John ground to a stop in front of Hamilton, stumbling over his own feet as he did so. After righting himself and adjusting his hat so that it was no longer in danger of falling off his head, he beamed at Alexander, tilting his head slightly as he continued talking, his voice warmly familiar. 

“Hell- I almost lost you there. Adams was being a pompous idiot again; I have no idea why your father keeps him as an advisor, much less as your tutor, and he ended up with a drink  _ accidentally _ spilt down the front of his vest. Then I turned around and you were gone!” He said, gesticulating wilding as he did so, the bells on his uniform jingling. John was Alexander’s closest friend, and the son of a duke, which gave him enough prestige to stay at the palace for a summer, just long enough for him to befriend the crown prince and take the only court position available in order to stay there: a jester. It was a great arrangement: John got to have the comedian career he wanted, enraging his father along the way; and Hamilton, for once in his life, had a friend.

“My apologies John, it was not my intention to wander off,” Alexander said, a soft and mirthful smile appearing on his face. John simply shook his head, his curls flying around his head as he rolled his eyes, exasperated fondness radiating from him. 

“Was it  _ your intention _ to make eyes at that violinist boy?” Hamilton flushed bright red as he spluttered with embarrassment. His cheeks burned, but he didn’t know if that was because he got caught staring, or because he stared in the first place.

_ “That isn’t- I was not!” _ His collar suddenly felt stiflingly scratchy and far too hot as he fumbled for words, an exceptionally rare occurrence. “I was simply looking around.” Alexander finished lamely, avoiding John’s eyes. John, however, just chuckled and patted the other man’s back, leading him closer to where most people were congregating. As they walked slowly to the center of the ballroom, trying to slow their pace as much as possible, he spoke again, the laughter still in his voice. 

“Okay, whatever  _ Your Highness _ says. But I was actually here to inform you that your father would be here soon and that it is truly in your best interest to be dancing with someone when he arrives.” Hamilton sighed at that, his eyes scanning the crowd for someone George would find “suitable.” He had learned from previous occasions that the Queen, John, and a marble statue were not, in fact, proper partners for the kingdom’s sole heir to dance with. No woman stood out to him, and after a few seconds passed in silence, his curly-haired friend groaned in exasperation. 

“You are truly impossible. Just pick a decent looking gall, do your strange wink thing, and wait until  _ His Royal Majesty _ arrives.” His voice was especially dry when using George’s title, and Alexander’s eyes flashed with curiosity at the sarcasm in his tone. While John was loyal and caring, he also never thought before he spoke, which led to more than one instance of a royal figure being insulted. But the King? That was definitely new. 

“Is that any way to address your ruler?” Alexander’s tone was light and jesting as he tried to pry as much information as he could from John, who was fidgeting with his sleeves self-consciously. 

“Forgive me; that was out of line.” The other man said, words coming out rushed. “I just cannot stand to see you so miserable over this whole wedding nonsense, all because your father believes a prince who comes of age must be married at the first opportunity. It is unfair to the highest degree!” Hamilton placed a calming hand on John’s arm, relieved at the fact that his friend’s views almost completely matched his own. After all, it wasn’t as if Alexander didn’t have rebellious moments where he was downright  _ furious _ at the universe for dropping him into a perfect mask, forcing him to play a charade he never wanted a part of. But that was no fault of George’s. In fact, his father was always trying his best to dissuade the kingdom’s advisors, who constantly clamored for their daughters and nieces to be presented to the heir as quickly as possible. But there was only so much he could do, and every prince before him married within six months of his coming-of-age.

“That is simply tradition, Laurens. The King has nothing to do with it. But thank you anyways, for looking out for me.” John simply smiled, his entire face lighting up like the sparklers that were released at the palace on New Year’s. Some days, Alexander wondered what he had done to deserve such a great friend like him in his life. Their conversation quickly resumed its original course, all thoughts of marriage forgotten.

“Tradition or not, you do have to dance with at least one person today, or Adams will have your head. And there’s a rather fetching girl who’s been staring at you for quite some time now.” Hamilton did his best not to betray signs of disappointment; nobody, not even his best friend, could know that he would much rather dance with the violinist boy than any overly-polite noble daughter he was pointed towards. John tilted his head to where two finely clothed ladies were standing, one of them whispering to the other. Both had dark hair and eyes, but that was where the resemblance stopped. One was more pale, the blush on her cheeks evident even across the darkened room, while the other was fiery, the aura around her catching the attention of everyone who walked past, and marking her as more outgoing than her cautiously sweet counterpart.

“Schuylers, the two of them. There ought to be a third roaming around somewhere, but she may be too young for these sorts of things” John whispered as the sociable one began walking towards them. “That one’s Angelica, I think.” When she paused in front of them, he quickly made his excuses and snuck away, leaving just Hamilton and the Schuyler.  _ Damn you John.  _ He thought, with no real heat behind the words. She smiled charmingly at him, seemingly unaware of his discomfort, her eyes dancing with intelligent light as she curtsied. 

“Your Highness, you strike me as a man who is deeply unsatisfied.” Her voice was strong, nothing like the demure, high-pitched whispers he was used to. Alexander did his best not to snort at her.  _ I guess you could say that.  _

“Is that right?” He responded, his eyes already shifting away, knowing that her only purpose talking to him was a shot at piquing the interest of the most-wanted bachelor in the kingdom. If she noticed his boredom, she made no comment, instead continuing insistently. 

“You stand far from the center of the celebration in your name, a brooding look upon your face, like you have just seen the entire universe and found it wanting. I believe it is safe to assume you have never been satisfied.” Well, although Hamilton was impressed at how easily she wielded her speech, the Schuyler girl was completely incorrect. He had not seen the universe at all, not even a fragment, and that was what caused him to be, as she so eloquently put it,  _ deeply unsatisfied.  _ She was staring at him, waiting to see how he responded. His lips quirked up pleasantly, and the prince tried his best to inject curiosity into his expression. 

“My name is Alexander Hamilton” She seemed triumphant at that, if a bit miffed that he had introduced himself so plainly, by a name that everyone already knew. 

“And mine, Angelica Schuyler” Ah, so John was right, and that would mean her father was… Philip Schuyler, an incredibly wealthy duke. She and Alexander would be perfect together, blessed by both of their families, a rich and bountiful union. If he had any romantic interest in her, that is. Angelica laughed slightly, the look on her face a mix of amusement and something he could not place.

“No need to fear me, Your Highness, I am already wed. But there is someone I want you to meet.” Hamilton had to restrain himself from sighing dramatically in relief, blushing, or kicking himself. How could he have not known? Instead, he probably looked like a fool, with his transparent expressions of disinterest. But before he could react or even offer an apology, Angelica was already walking away, motioning for him to follow.  _ She’s leading me to her sister, isn’t she?  _

As they walked, Hamilton pondered on Angelica and what he thought of her. She was a surprisingly nice conversational companion, if their two-minute exchange could be believed, and her lack of fear or nervousness around him was definitely refreshing. They could be great friends, and heaven-knows Alexander needs more of those. He was drawn out of his thoughts by a willowy figure in a blue dress, who smiled at him sweetly, combing a strand of black hair behind her ears. Despite her slight blush, she did not seem meek, and met his gaze unwaveringly. 

“Elizabeth Schuyler, Your Highness.” She said, dropping into a graceful curtsy. Alexander looked at Angelica, who was smirking at them.  _ Oh no.  _ A sinking sense of dread was building in his chest, turning his breastbone cold and heavy beneath his gold-embroidered vest. 

“My sister!” She said enthusiastically, her intentions dishearteningly clear. People were staring now, whispering amongst themselves, discussing the two ladies that had somehow managed to attract the attention of the unnatractable crown prince. They twittered and chirped and acted like he wasn’t  _ right there,  _ painfully away of curiously judgemental stares sent his way.

Hamilton was sick of this ballroom, with its insidious gossip and manipulative liars. Why did everyone he meet attempt to set him up with one woman or another? Why was his every action judged; every decision measured against another’s personal scruples? Alexander just wanted to  _ live, _ to experience life, to see the universe and be reflected in its eyes.  _ In his eyes.  _

Elizabeth met his gaze, her eyebrows furrowing into a concerned frown. She was surprisingly perceptive, noticing the distress he had so carefully tried to mask. 

“May I have this dance, Your Highness?” She queried, glancing pointedly at her sister, who waved at them, grinning. 

“I’ll leave you to it.” She walked off, joining onto a small group of women, and sparking the dwindling conversation back to life. As soon as she was gone, Elizabeth spoke.

“Thank heavens she took her leave. I cannot imagine how much longer she would have been trying to force us into marriage by sheer force of will!” Alexander, caught off guard, burst into sudden laughter he had to work hard to quiet. As soon as people stopped looking at them, Elizabeth became less like a pretty china vase for the guests to gawk at, and more like a real human being. Someone that Hamilton might even like. After all, nobody had made him laugh that way except John. 

He placed his hands on her waist, feeling deeply uncomfortable as he did so. They began their steps, swaying to yet another waltz. The revelry was slowing down, which was fortunate, because that meant the end of this terrible party would be nearing. They stayed like that for a second, tense and awkward, attempting to dance just enough to satisfy the onlookers. 

“Call me Eliza” The girl stated, all matter-of-fact. “Elizabeth sounds far too formal.” Alexander smiled at her, all the while keeping his ears alert for any sign of his father. Once he appeared, surely the guests would leave?

“As you wish, Eliza.” After another bout of silence, slightly less stiff this time, she spoke again.

“You seem rather uncomfortable.” Eliza said, her dark eyes studying him carefully, like he was a particularly complicated book she was trying to understand. Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact that Eliza seemed more trustworthy than anyone else here, John excluded, that gave Alexander a newfound sense of courage. And for the first time since his birthday had begun, he spoke the unadulterated truth. 

“I suppose I am. I mean no offense, you are a beautiful girl, but not the one I would have danced with tonight if I could choose.” Eliza giggled, almost seeming  _ relieved  _ at the prospect, if that were possible. Why, Hamilton could not say. 

“Who would you have danced with, Your Highness?” Alexander swallowed, his blood running cold and making him dizzyingly faint. Of course, he had already admitted the truth in his mind, but saying it out loud….. _ Saying it aloud cements it.  _ But Eliza was there, looking gently interested, not the slightest hint of judgement in her expression, and Alexander was tired of the years he spent lying to everyone around him. 

“A man” He said, voice shaking with adrenaline and fear. Those two words, spoken in only a second, changed everything. Eliza’s eyes widened slightly in obvious shock, causing Alexander to pull away from the dance, not looking directly at her for fear of seeing repulsion. 

“My apologies, Eliza. I am sure that is not what you wanted to hear.” She rolled her eyes, moving along with Alexander so that he had no choice but to keep up the waltz.  _ Why isn’t she leaving?  _ He thought.  _ Is she disgusted?  _ A jolt of terror ran through him as another idea occurred: what if she revealed him? Maybe a common citizen could get away with a relationship with another man, but a member of the royal family? The very idea was preposterous. 

“No, no. Stop your assumptions. I wanted to hear the truth, nothing less.” Hamilton was stunned into silence, a rare occurrence. He gaped at her, cautious relief reverberating through his heart, which was singing in elation. The first person he had told reacted with nothing less than kindness, and that alone was enough to send his mind reeling with the idea that maybe- just  _ maybe,  _ his desires were not so ludicrous after all. What was he supposed to say? There wasn’t a proper response letting someone know how much their small shreds of geniality made him happier than anything else in his life. 

“Thank you” He managed, a sincere look of joy on his face. It had been so long since he had bared his soul to somebody like that. They stopped dancing so that they were just standing still, their shadows disappearing as the light from the windows dimmed into indigo and purple. 

“Not all hope is lost, you know. A king-consort is a possibility..” Eliza trailed off, probably unaware of the hope her words had sparked in Alexander. Tradition simply stated a crown prince must be  _ married, _ not necessarily to a woman. That meant if Alexander could somehow muster up the courage to tell his father, then he might be free to pursue his own happiness, to tie himself down to someone he wanted, to  _ fall in love.  _ His thoughts were speeding up with the possibilities, euphoria tingling through his veins.  But just as he opened his mouth to speak, a piercingly loud trumpet cut through the conversation in the palace.

_ King George Washington The First was here.  _

After the announcer, a harried mess of a man named Charles Lee, stumbled over the King’s many titles, he stepped aside in order to let His Majesty take his place on the balcony overlooking the room. 

“My loyal subjects, we gather here today, as revelers, to celebrate my son Alexander Hamilton’s coming of age. With him finally flourishing into adulthood and becoming a man, there is one matter that needs to be taken care of.” Everything slowed down, and Alexander’s blood ran cold in his veins.  _ He wouldn’t- _ “My son will chose a bride by the end of the next ball.” All eyes turned to Hamilton,  _ watching, anticipating, expecting.  _ It wasn’t supposed to happen this soon- he still had time. Horror had drained the blood from his face as he stood completely still, paralyzed by fear.  _ No, no, no. I’m out of time.  _ Choosing a bride by the next ball would be impossible, he would be better off marrying Eliza. It was supposed to be six months. He had six months to tell his family, six months to fall in love, six months to pursue his happiness. But now, he didn't. He simply had a promise made to the people without his permission, a perfect guarantee of the future he despised more than anything stealing him away in a cloud of darkness. 

_ Alexander couldn’t breathe. _

He was vaguely aware of two servants entering the room through a pair of great mahogany-carved doors. His father was talking, but he couldn’t comprehend the words. Something about  _ crossbows  _ and  _ weddings.  _ The servants presented him with a silken package that Hamilton unwrapped, the sensation of rich fabric beneath his fingertips numbing his screaming brain and aching heart. 

It was a bow, intricately carved, an arrow already placed with it. It was beautiful, in the way that gifts made to bribe always were. Alexander made eye contact with his father, whose eyes practically shouted  _ “Forgive me”  _ A small twinge of pity went through him, but was quickly shaken off by the sudden onset of anger that threatened to overwhelm him. 

The guests were leaving now, as Washington’s speech concluded, and Hamilton felt a hand of his shoulder.  _ John. _

“Alexander…” He sounded soft, uncertain, like he didn’t know what to expect anymore.  _ That makes the two of us.  _

“I’m fine.” He snapped, turning away and trying his best not to think of the universe he would never see, the satisfaction he would never feel. John led them to the smaller, second set of doors, the ones leading out into the great expanse of moonlight forest. It looked wondrously peaceful, completely untouched by the taint of humans.

“We can hunt, if you would like. To take your mind off things.” Alexander smiled, the action hurting his heart. He just wanted to be alone, to escape from his inevitable fate only for a night. John ran back inside without even waiting for Alexander's response, calling over his shoulder. 

“Wait for me! I have to get my gear too!” As soon as his friend was gone, Hamilton got up and slowly closed the doors, turning back around to view the woods.

He was  _ so stupid,  _ thinking that he could get away with taking a king-consort, let alone loving a man. It would never happen. Instead, his dreams would all be replaced with gold rings and documents he was forced to sign off on. Alexander would always be trapped in a gilded cage of riches and pretty faces he didn’t care for at all. He would marry a woman, have children, and die without knowing happiness, without ever pursuing it. 

Alexander Hamilton surveyed the expanse of land, dark green foliage interwoven with threads of silver moonlight, his eyes catching on a distant flash of pristine white feathers. He began to walk towards it, drawn inexplicably towards the forest. 

_ C’est la vie _

  


That’s life. 


End file.
